The Eyebrow Thing
by EE's Skysong
Summary: Older OddxSissi fic. 'Odd, I'm going to drive a stake through your spine if you sing 'Break Break Breakdance'.' 'But it's fun.' 'And it'll make me murderous.' 'Well, you'll just have to find a way to shut me up, won't you'


Disclaimer: "This is side one Flip me over I know I'm not your favorite record The songs you grow to like Never stick at first"

(An: See? I'm not dead. I'm just incredibly, incredibly lazy. I guess that everyone has to be older in this- Sissi's too cynical and Odd's not random enough for them to be their current ages. Fifteen or sixteen, maybe. It's just a random plot-device dance. Except that there really isn't a plot. At all. Anywhere. It's just fun.)

My first thought was, _I don't believe it. He really _does_ wear that much purple all the time._ My second thought was _Why am I even bothering to wonder about it?_

I shook my head, deciding to look at my punch instead of Odd. He had a mask on, but I still knew it was him- who else would show up in a purple tuxedo? I had to admit, he had pretty good taste. He was wearing a dark violet, velvet waistcoat and pants with a black undershirt. For once, his hair was styled in something other than his usual gravity-defying updo. He'd left the hair gel behind, letting mauve bangs fall in his face and pulling the rest of his hair back. The mask was a nice touch, even if I wasn't sure why he was wearing it. There was a small rose tucked in his breast pocket, too. Somehow, it worked.

_And there you go, you're staring at him again._

I glanced down at my drink again. It wasn't as interesting a subject.

There was no further way to avoid it- I was bored. Truly, outstandingly bored. Despite my dress (which I looked absolutely stunning in), no one had asked me to dance all night (except Nicolas and Hervé; two words: as if). This coming to dances sans date thing was becoming a trend, one about as fashionable as pocket protectors.

And I was staring at Odd again!

He did stand out among the monkey-suited boys, though- about as much as I did in my bright red apparel. _At least _he_ isn't holding up the wall._

Odd, who also lacked a date, was instead opting to dance with everyone- at least, those who didn't slap him (the girls) or just stare in disgust or shock (the boys). He seemed to be enjoying himself, though. _Like he ever isn't…_

Now he was grinning at Yumi and raising his eyebrows. Whatever he said didn't work; Yumi just rolled her eyes and went back to dancing with Ulrich.

Ah. Ulrich.

Thinking about him was rather like picking a scab- it hurts and is kind of disgusting, but you do it anyway just to study your own reaction. I've never been a fan of long explanations, so to sum up: it's pretty hard to think you still have a chance for a guy when he yells out his love to another girl and kisses her about three feet away from you.

Well, anyway, I knocked back my punch. It was a good thing I did, since Odd came up behind me and said, "So, wanna dance?" I whirled, an action that would have sent my drink everywhere if it hadn't been gone.

I blinked at him for a moment, trying to process his question. "…You're kidding, right?" I said, once my brain caught up with my body.

"For once, no. I was just wondering, since pickings are pretty slim for the both of us."

"This is the prom all over again, isn't it?" I demanded, putting my hand on my hip and glaring at him. "Except that I'm not the one begging."

Odd shrugged. "I'm not begging, I'm just pointing out that, at the moment, it's between me and Hervé."

I paused. "…Take me, I'm yours," I said, my voice as dry as the Sahara.

Odd beamed at me. "I figured as much. Nobody can resist me in this thing," he said, fingering his tux.

"Strangely enough, everyone else seemed to do just that," I commented as we walked into the fray.

"Hey, it got you to dance with me, didn't it?" Odd smirked, doing that eyebrow thing again.

I raised my own eyebrows. "Odd, you already have a giant pink mark on your cheek. Do you really want it to conquer the rest of your face?"

"No, Mommy, I'll be good."

"I'm already regretting this," I muttered.

"Your enthusiasm is the most wonderful thing about this relationship."

"What relationship? This is a _dance._"

"Same difference." Odd shrugged as a slower song came on.

"No wonder you have commitment issues," I replied, reluctantly leaning against him.

"I do _not_ have commitment issues." He put an arm around my waist. "All the girls I date do. I overwhelm them."

I snorted. "With what?" His collar felt nice against my cheek.

"Oh, there's so much to list… my debonair good looks, my wit, my charm… it's no wonder I can never hold someone down. I'm just so much more spectacular."

"Or it could be your habit of dating more than one girl at once," I pointed out. "As a rule, we really dislike that."

"Told you, just one girl isn't enough for me."

"I don't know what's worse- how full of yourself you are or how unjustified it is."

Odd tightened his grip on me and whispered in my ear. "Unjustified? You really think so?"

And why did I have to pick _now_ to notice he smelled good? I pushed away, glad that a faster song was starting. "Odd, my opinion of you should be obvious."

"Ah, yes, but I like having things spelled out to me. In tiny, one-syllable words. It makes me feel secure."

He was still staring at me… "_What_?"

"Well, you still haven't told me how you view me, and you do look nice tonight. Red works for you."

I studied him suspiciously for a moment, but no punch line seemed forthcoming. "Well, all right… I think you're a pompous jerk who has this annoying habit of being really sweet."

"Why is it annoying?"

"Because it doesn't allow me to hate you properly. Again, obvious."

"Ah, yes, of course." Odd nodded, his eyes closed and his tone amused.

"Oh, turn blue," I muttered.

Odd gasped. "Blue? Surely you blaspheme! Blue plays havoc with my complexion."

I gaped at him for a moment, then shook my head. "You're insane."

Odd blinked. "And…?"

"And so I'm dancing with a madman."

"And enjoying yourself to boot."

"Whoever said I was having fun?"

"Well, you're grinning like an idiot for starters…"

My retort dried up as I realized he was right. I stuck my tongue out at him and started for the punch table.

"Hey, wait! Whatever happened to dancing?" Odd asked, stepping around and walking in front of me.

"I _did_ dance, for at least four songs." To admit I'd lost track of the exact number would be admitting that I'd actually liked dancing with him… which I had, but I'd never tell. He was insufferable as it was.

O-o-O-o-O

I beat her to the punch bowl and poured her a cup. She accepted it with that annoying, wary look on her face, as though she feared I would knock it out of her hand and all over her dress.

God, that dress!

It was made out of some slinky, smooth material that didn't so much slide as slither over her skin, hugging her tight tight. It hung to her ankles, but the sides were slitted to about halfway up her calves. It was an unnamable shade of red that practically gave off its own light. On Sissi, it was perfection.

"Well, if you won't dance with me over there, I'll have to annoy you over here."

Sissi shrugged, sipping her drink. "At least you're honest." I think it was intended as a compliment, but her derisive tone made it hard to tell.

After a moment of silence (all I could endure), I said, "So, do I have something stuck to my head?"

Sissi shook herself. "Wh-what? …No, why do you ask?"

I rearranged a few purple strands. "Well, you just keep staring at me. Did a cat crawl up there and die without a two weeks' notice?"

Sissi stared at me incredulously (nothing new). She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. "No. No. No dead cats."

"Is there anything else lurking, then?"

Sissi muttered something rude. "No. There is nothing in your hair. I was staring at you, in fact, because I like the way you look with your hair down. Satisfied?"

I grinned. "Never. But that _does_ put you even further in my favor."

"I believe I shall shoot myself," she replied. "Daddy must have a gun somewhere…"

"Hey, now, at least I'll never ask you if you had a nose job again."

"Joy. Exultation. Rapture."

"I don't know what's more charming about you- your dry wit or that permanent disgusted look you seem to have on your face."

"It's only gonna be permanent if you keep hanging around me."

"Well, then, I guess I'd better get used to it."

Sissi shot me a dirty look. "Ok, I've said what I think about your hair. Now what's up with the mask?"

"I think it makes me look dashing. Adds some _je ne sais quoi, _you know?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Odd, the whole point of '_je ne sais quoi_' is that you _don't_ know."

I raised a finger, then realized she had a point. The finger went down.

"Well, if that happens to you all the time, no wonder you can't hold on to a girl."

"…" I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was actually serious.

"Shut your mouth. You look like a beached fish."

"Nice to know." I shook my head. "I regret to inform you, madam, that you are full of crazy."

"Pot, kettle, black."

"_Touché_… so, wanna dance?"

"We have danced."

"Yes, but we've stopped. I'm suggesting we restart."

"Because…?"

"Because I like dancing with you. God, Sissi, I can almost hear the wind blowing through your ears."

"Again, really rich coming from you."

"Hey, we're both lovers of the Not-Study Game here."

"At least I don't make my papers into origami swans."

"As opposed to doodling little hearts in the margins?"

"I'm a girl. I'm obligated."

"Yumi never does it."

Sissi's eye twitched. "Yumi's homicidal. She hangs out with William."

"…I'd like to deny that fact and defend my friend… but it's true." I considered telling her the number of times Yumi had nearly transformed Ulrich into Ulricka (let's just say Yumi didn't always have the impeccable aim she does now) but figured it would be too tricky to explain the circumstances. "Do I detect a hint of bitterness in that assessment?"

Sissi raised both eyebrows, daring me to continue.

I held up a hand, protecting my face in case she decided to renew the handprint. I knew provoking her like this would probably bring such results, but I was curious about the state of affairs in Delmas-land. So I just stared back, using my patented blank smile (it always works on Ulrich and Yumi; you wouldn't believe the things I've gotten them to tell me with it).

She made a face, then said, "Perhaps. I don't think we'll ever get along if that's what you mean. Too much time spent rubbing each other the wrong way."

"Well, then, what about me? I'd say we've spent a good long while antagonizing each other, and yet we're getting along."

"We're not getting along. You just won't leave."

I sighed. "Here I thought we were making progress."

"What, are you my psychologist now?"

"Depends. Do you like roleplaying? I never figured you to be into kinky things, but I guess I can live with it."

"Go drink some arsenic."

"Would you nurse me back to health if I did?"

"I might throw a lily on your grave."

"Ah, that's sweet…" I grinned at her and raised my eyebrows.

"If you start singing 'No One Mourns the Wicked', I'll have to strangle you."

"Nah, I've got one better." My grin widened.

"No. Don't do it."

"You know what's coming, then?"

"Odd, I'm going to drive a stake through your spine if you sing 'Break Break Breakdance'."

"But it's fuuun!" I whined, fidgeting.

"And it'll make me murderouuus," Sissi snarled. She made a very violent gesture at me to prove her point.

"Well, then, you'll just have to figure out a way to shut me up, won't you?" I asked, leaning in and smirking.

Sissi stared at me, then, oh-so-slowly… did the eyebrow thing. For quite possibly the millionth time that night. Dear Lord, did I want to slap her.

…huh. In retrospect, that's probably exactly what she thinks about me. All the time. Weird.

"What?"

I leaned back on my heels, feeling frustrated. _Boy, talk about a switch._

"I know what you meant. But hell would freeze over before I did it." She sipped her punch, still with that "I dare you" look on her face.

Oh, how I hated that look.

"Honestly, Odd, even if this punch was spiked, I highly doubt I'd kiss you. I'd need a huge incentive."

"Like what?"

She tapped her lips with a finger (…not nice…), considering it. "The rose."

I paused. "…That's it? Here I was expecting torture or something derogatory…"

She shrugged. "It's all I can think of at the moment… besides, what else do you have?"

"Sexiness and mystique? I could bottle it for you."

"No thanks, I'll take my chances with perfume."

"Darn, I was hoping for an excuse…" I shook my head and held my rose out to her.

She looked at it, then at me. "Oh, God, you're actually serious, aren't you?"

"When am I not?" Blank stare. "Ok, I kind of deserved that… but yes, about this, I am." I winked at her and waggled the flower in her face.

After a moment of staring at it and biting her lip, she snatched it. "It must be spiked," she muttered, closing her eyes.

I leaned in again, but before I could get quite close enough, she opened one eye. "What now?"

With a crooked grin, she reached over and ripped off my mask.

(I've realized that all of my OxS stories tend to feature drinks in some form or another…. Strange, man. …yeah, like I said, there's really no point here. Pity. Review?)


End file.
